


Three-sentence fiction, 2015, Tolkienalia

by Heliopause



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 3 Sentence Ficathon, 3 Sentence Fiction, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:57:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3378992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heliopause/pseuds/Heliopause
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Written in response to a prompt from vialethe:<br/>Narnia/The Silmarillion, Susan/Maglor, <i>all my books are lying useless now/all my maps will only show me how to lose my way</i></p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Ring-bearer

_In response to a prompt from saoirse7: The Hobbit (bookverse), Bilbo, the burden of the ring after wearing it for probably months in Thranduil's palace._

To be unseen, to creep along empty corridors in the dark places under the spacious halls, to be outwitting even the Elvenking's sharp-eyed guards - surely he was becoming something greater now than just plain Bilbo Baggins of Bag End?

His hand was fumbling towards the ring, moving of its own accord - but that made sense, he thought, mazily, because of course it was the ring he was using to make himself into this new, grander Hobbit, a respected Burglar, a hero who walked among Elves, like in the old tales. His own secret ring, his solid, heavy gold ring, a constant reassuring weight around his neck, an always-there reminder that he was clever, and lucky, and _safe._


	2. to weave without a loom

_In response to a prompt from alexseanchai: any, any, crochet._

"This is strange art, Melian, to weave without a loom; why have you turned from Vairë's path to make your own way in this?"

"Though it is with loom Vairë weaves the tale of time, yet she it was who gave this art to me, that _thus_ ," - slender fingers moved in swift mysterious interlacings, pulling the thread of dark and light through and again through, but never quite to the end - " _thus_ I might weave by my own hands alone that which encircles and protects Doriath; thus, if you will learn of me, Sea-maiden's child, might you also learn to weave protection for a realm."

Galadriel watched then in silence; her realm, she thought, if such there could come to be, she would indeed protect, but when she wove protection, it would be from shining light alone, unshadowed.


	3. At the edge of the tombless sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to a prompt from vialethe:  
> Narnia/The Silmarillion, Susan/Maglor, _all my books are lying useless now/all my maps will only show me how to lose my way_

"Is it enough?" he asked, when they had come at her urging to the near-antarctic shores of the Great Southern Ocean.  
"It's what I wanted," she said, "an ocean that is trackless, and blank, and empty of all meaning and value."  
"Not empty," he said, gazing with unfathomable eyes at the long, dark rolling surges.


End file.
